


A Road That Takes Me Home

by glamorouspixels



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arachnophobia, F/M, First Time, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Game Set & Murder, Gentle Sex, Sexual Tension, Spiders, mentioned spider as an excuse for smut, s03e07, very thoroughly making sure that phryne's okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:55:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25933246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glamorouspixels/pseuds/glamorouspixels
Summary: Although the threat of the spider has been removed, Phryne finds herself in need of further reassurances. Thankfully, Jack is more than happy to be of service.A birthday gift for Particularfavorite! <3
Relationships: Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Comments: 20
Kudos: 105





	A Road That Takes Me Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Particularfavorite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Particularfavorite/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY! <3 I have no idea if this is the sort of thing you wanted! But it's what first came to my mind based on what you like, plus it's set during your favorite episode. So I hope it's fine! ⛲️💦 I love you, and I hope you have an amazing day <3 And thank you to acrazyobsession for the beta! The title is from _Where We Go_ by P!nk.

Phryne Fisher, in a delicate perch atop her vanity, was trying to crawl inside her own body. As her own skittish fingers trailed her arms unfeelingly, her gaze was an equally jumpy thing – perusing corners, spans of walls, even the covers of her bed as though the silk were to burst with vicious spiders.

Being a guest in Phryne’s boudoir was not going at all as Jack had expected. He was a wall between her and the rest of the room, yet to allow her to feel truly safe, he suspected there’d need to be ten of him.

“Are you alright?” He broke the silence. His fists, itching to give her physical support, had been banned to reside in the pockets of his trousers, safe from her skin – the vulnerable knee that stuck out at him – and the shock of the red robe she was dressed in.

“I’ll be late for my party if I’m not.”

She managed to face him an entire second before turning her eyes upon her dressing screen, to which a glinting-onyx wonder of a dress had been fastened. Suspicion danced behind her eyes as she scanned the floor between herself and the screen, eyes mapping out the patterned carpet.

“Although I’m far from keen on crossing the spider floor to retrieve my dress.” Despite her trying her hand at nonchalance, what came out was such a glaring high-pitched plea that Jack nearly laughed, unwillingly caught by a surge of warm affection.

When Phryne at last voiced her request – “Could you go and fetch that for me?” – and he spun to comply, Jack allowed himself to marvel at the plunging neckline. It gaped too low to conceal a brassiere, and even his untrained eye could see that the hip section was much the same. Clinging too close to allow for undergarments.

With these thoughts like a thorn in his side, he turned as smoothly as a puppet on a string. It was a well-deserved look of confusion that he saw upon her face; Jack felt warm, red-faced, and his collar and tie were suddenly too tight. “Thank you,” she managed. “Oh, and give it a nice and thorough shake.”

“What good is that supposed to do?” Though he instantly obeyed despite the question.

“Deal with any hidden spiders?” It seemed the mere thought of such a thing sufficed to send shivers down her spine.

“Pity it took this long to uncover this fear of yours,” Jack devilishly pondered; watching as she curved into her own caress, a counterpoint to the spider’s jittery legs she felt all over, was very interesting, indeed.

“Distrust, Jack,” she corrected, her hands on a quest to cup her elbows. Seeing wickedness in his cataloguing gaze, Phryne added with the beginnings of a pout, “And I’ll shout for Dot if you send spiders after me.”

“Heaven forbid,” he retorted, finally moving to set her dress aside. That it remained conveniently beyond her reach was a measure of caution. Jack wouldn’t put it past her to attempt to change with him right there, but a slight furrow in her brow was Phryne’s only answer.

Except… One small hand flitted about the side of her neck, where red had blossomed. Jack stared as her fingers slowly moved, his mouth watering at the sight of her skin so smooth and supple.

“What’s that?” He barely felt himself move into her orbit.

Despite the glance she cast his way, Phryne didn’t take away the pads of her fingers. “Mmmh?”

“You’re scratching yourself,” he let her know. “Just there, at the side of your neck.” By now, Jack had come so near as to be half a breath away from her neckline’s vulnerable gap, a rise of the fabric off her neck between collarbone and tendon. This hidden place, he kept in focus – the skin looked to be in shadows, paper-thin, and bedecked in freckles like pieces of gold – upon skimming up her arm to gently pry her fingers off.

“Oh,” breathed Phryne, joining her hands in a clasp loose but reassuring.

He drew his free hand higher, paused not an inch above her skin, struck by what had happened when they’d last encountered a spider. Not that he objected to her flinging herself into his arms at any other point in time. But, feeling her undress him with the softest of eyes, her breathing having shallowed to a fluttery current, he couldn’t take the chance to frighten her away.

His heart pounding with the force of a storm, Jack finally settled on asking, “May I? No spiders, just me.”

In the greatest gift she could bestow, Phryne tilted her head to grant him access to her beautiful throat, where the tender mark was quickly fading with the whole of her skin adopting a blush. They both held their breath as Jack stretched his fingers, a shift so slow that he felt every muscle move.

And then, softly, Phryne’s eyes fluttered shut at the same moment that her unpainted lips parted serenely, and Jack’s fingertips rubbed like a balm over her skin. Carefully, he stroked her hair aside and dipped behind her ear; then down again, lower, letting just the pad of a finger trail over her collarbone.

Phryne released the ghost of a breath, angling her head more in a move he deemed unconscious. Jack couldn’t help himself; as the ends of her bob tickled his face and she clung to his waist to keep from floating, he inhaled her scent where her neck met her hairline. There, a hint of lavender soap danced with her warmth and the vulnerable sweetness of still unperfumed skin, too much to resist nuzzling her scalp while closing his lips over her skin. All too briefly, there and then gone, his tongue darted out to taste the spot.

“Jack,” she whispered, but the power of her shudder washed out the sound.

“Although your skin looks a little flushed,” he said, startled by the darkness of the tone of his voice, “there are no puncture marks as far as I can see.”

Phryne gave a soft little nod. This close, he could make out the sweep of her natural lashes, the ring of jade around her lighter green irises. Glancing down made him suck in a breath; he could see where the fabric overlapped, the curves of her small breasts a little lower. Hinted at by flowers of a lighter red than the robe itself, reaching from the outer curves to where her nipples must be.

“And you’re sure you’ve given it your all?” She asked the moment he made to look away. Cupping her knee so as not to melt against her, Jack closed his eyes against the softness of her breath. “Those marks can be microscopic.”

And with that… Phryne inched forward, giving him ample time to pull away. When he chose not to, he made acquaintance with the slight drag of her unmade lips as Phryne Fisher’s mouth met his.

Brief though it had been, he often recalled the sensation of her kiss. In the safety of his own home or when her gaze held just enough fire, but always to the sound of stuttery moans and hands turning into claws, fumbling with his hair as confidence allowed him to traverse her body.

Never had he thought that he’d be rooted to the spot as her mouth softly opened; it took the overwhelming softness of the tip of her tongue, licking at his lips to invite his own to come and play, to make his body melt into action. Phryne’s legs opened to invite him home; held tenderly in place by her thighs around his hips, Jack was nearly up to the vanity now. His eyes were open, allowing hers to ensure that he was there.

As much as to feel her skin as to keep the world from spinning, he stroked his hands into the fabric of her robe. At that first brief touch of his hands to her shoulders, they broke away to bask in a groan. Her skin was warm and shockingly delicate, and Jack’s hips bucked as he feathered his hands down her alertly arched spine like kisses.

What Phryne saw in his touch was a challenge to take off her robe without dislodging him. As she clawed at the fabric, Jack released a breathless laugh; he’d previously spied the hem of her slip, a fragment of white against deep crimson. But the sight of Phryne in nothing else had him pressing his head against her neck, chasing a calm that had long escaped him. Her small breasts were flushed as the mark had been, every difficult breath pressing them tightly against the fabric’s bounds.

What made him groan and this feel  _ real  _ was the darkness at the apex of her thighs – that of thick pubic hair beneath the near-transparent silk. Phryne curved to meet the fingers that wonderingly brushed it, and the next beautiful laugh was hers.

“Jack?” He noticed her squirming against the vanity’s surface. “What makes you think he’d stop at one spider? There could be spider bites all over me, and I’d be none the wiser before it’s too late. Unless it’s my death you wish to investigate my party for.”

As he met her dark but hopeful gaze, his happiness was an explosion of light. “A sensible suggestion,” he murmured, picking her up, bursting with joy that he was able to do so. “I’d better have a look.”

Jack rose above her once he’d laid her on the bed, and a soft kiss locked their lips together. This was no inferno; there was no blaze or billowing smoke. Jack touched the rest of her as gently as he had her neck. Laying his lips over a small knob at her collarbone, sucking, tracing the delicate structure with his tongue. Phryne gasped, the sound she released almost mournful.

A lump formed in his throat as she opened his buttons, burning through the layers at superhuman speed. Jack’s waistcoat parted at her touch, and his tie and shirt were easily dealt with. He breathed out her name, his eyes as dark as she’d ever known them, at the feel of her tugging lightly at the hair on his chest; pinpricks of pain made him rigid as if suspended in time.

It was the sight of her, a picture of graceful want that the tangle of her hair and her bitten lips completed, that made him move again, this time to attack the thin straps of her slip with teeth. Her hand became a limp claw at his waistband; how she wished to arch against his mouth as Jack drew one strap away and then the other, one tiny motion at a time so she was shaking in his arms.

Jack must have sensed her urge to rip his trousers off him – clothing be damned, she needed him inside her on the spot – for he looked up with a smirk before the shadow of her neckline demanded his focus. There, a blush-pink areola peeked out beneath the silk’s creamy white, made him stutter for breath like a man below water.

What remained of his breath, she stole by kissing him again. Removing her slip was a joint endeavor; she squirmed to assist Jack’s tugging motions. But she fell back as if scorched when their bare chests met, the two taking turns with one suffocating breath. The distance allowed him a glance between them, at ink-black curls and bare skin to infinity.

“Any marks?” Phryne asked in a whisper, one finger seeking the rim of his ear.

“Not yet.” He could hardly hear himself over the rush in his ears like ocean waves and the drag of her thumb over the softness of his earlobe, which her index finger held in place to allow her to lightly pull.

“Jack,” she said. “It’s only right that I should examine you, as well. These things can do unthinkable damage.”

He caught the sweet, vulnerable musk of her arousal, hanging in luscious tendrils in the air and being all that he was breathing in. “Please, Phryne,” he growled in response, his nostrils flaring; she sucked at his lip, a worthy reward.

His heart in his throat, Jack let her pull down his trousers and smalls with nimble fingers. What little time it took him to discard his shoes and socks, she made up for by promptly cupping a hand around his throbbing cock. Phryne had never been one for patience; her giddy breaths made her smile appear choppy, and she pressed and twisted her hand in a way that wouldn’t do if Jack wanted this to last.

And so, he sucked in a breath and applied his mouth to one beautiful breast. Open-mouthed, he covered it whole, working with the inside of his lips to slide off slowly. That she gripped his cock for purchase didn’t help, but Jack held on, releasing tiny measures of the flesh until only her nipple was granted the wetness of his mouth.

Whimpers wracked her body as Phryne trembled, arched, and attempted to grasp him with her unoccupied hand. But her fingers in his hair were faint and shaky, exerting no more pressure than a breeze might have. “Oh… I don’t think so, Jack Robinson,” she softly growled when he sought repetition on her other breast. And, damn him, she was sure she felt him smile before jumping into action.

Dead set on revenge, she trapped his Adam’s apple between delicate lips, licking fondly at the vulnerable swell. All the while, Phryne’s fingertips stroked his length unhurriedly. One slender finger touching either side, she connected to two unbearable lines the tiny points of pleasure. Never straying, just mapping his cock until she knew she could sketch him in her sleep.

His desperate moans had been confidently given; now, she pulled away to leave two stripes tingling while the rest of him burned. Jack blinked his eyes open with a gentle scolding – or prayer, or plea – on the tip of his tongue. “Where’s your device?” He ground out.

Phryne cupped his face in her palm, the heat he gave off startling her, and her heart gave a squeeze when he easily nudged it. “Jack,” she reasoned, her tone just short of strangled laughter. “You gave it to Hugh no twenty minutes ago.”

“Oh. That I did.” There was just the edge of a smile in his voice. That was good; he did nothing to hide how much she affected him.

She could feel him sinking, lowering his cock to her hip and rocking, slowly, against the crook of it. “And besides,” Phryne continued distractedly, “it’s got spider touch on it. I’m not putting that back in my body.” Jack moved away in what he thought to be rejection, only to be halted by her fingers on his cock.

“This, on the other hand…  _ This  _ is more than welcome to stay.”

“Thank you,” he huffed out. Phryne fisted him strongly, a few hard strokes that were adoring in their power.

Only when her grip loosened did he tease apart the hair between her legs and slide a finger through her delicate folds. Phryne cried out; she pulsed with white-hot life against his fingertip, her eyes holding his until they wanted to flutter shut when he pushed just the pad into her entrance.

Keeping her eyes open had never been so hard, becoming more so as she guided his cock into her warm, snug, inviting body. There came the moist click of cunt taking cock, mingling with their groans and the rustle of the sheets as Phryne’s hips arched off the bed. Too overwhelmed to watch her face, Jack returned to her neck, a new-found safe space; she turned her head in kind and nuzzled his hair.

She relished the stretch of the intrusion, simply keeping him inside without so much as considering movement. “Stay?” She asked when Jack stirred, an iron grip clutching at his bunching arm. It was a pitiful whisper, and it caused Jack to solemnly nod. Instead of trying again to brace himself, he began rolling his hips into the heat of her. She rose as far as his body allowed, pushed down; the way he was pressed against her pelvis, every inch he moved compressed her clit.

She flung an arm out into nothing, then chose clinging to Jack over the softness of the pillows. Clawing at his back, nibbling at every part accessible to her. It wouldn’t be long now; as her body stiffened into a slender arch, her muscled grasped hard at the intrusion of his cock, which came in nudges rather than focused thrusts.

Jack’s mouth was half-open at her throat, where the skin was slick with sweat and the wetness his tongue had left behind. She was all but pulling at his hard flesh in pleasure – the velvet wrap of her channel was electric, flares of desire crackling up his spine and down again. He snaked a hand between their bodies, making her opening his destination, the fine-as-silk flesh over clenching muscle. As he committed to memory the tight stretch of skin, the slide of every push and pull of his cock in pleasure, Phryne simply shattered in his arms.

Phryne, as she came, was a fascinating sight, whimpers pouring from her parted lips. Her fingers, he was sure, were spreading a flush across his upper back, tiny crescents of her nails and streaks that flared pink in the sunlight. Those same rays of light captured the soft threadwork of lines around eyes she kept tightly shut.

With measured breaths, Jack endured the fervor of her shudders, the attempts of Phryne’s cunt to suck him in. That was until she squirmed underneath his weight, which he took as cue to slight from her warmth. He was pure and pulsing sensation, and silence reigned as he took her in from the newly gained distance.

“I thought I’d told you to stay,” said Phryne as her soft eyes found focus. It was a suggestion soon made act, her fingers returning to his cock to draw him back on top of her. “Come, my Jack. I want to watch you.”

“Phryne.” That was all the sound his gritted teeth let through, deceivingly short and painfully inadequate. No answer felt enough; Jack followed the direction of the jerk of her head, past blushing breasts and down to the soft flesh of her belly, coming up red-faced as he understood her scheme. But she twisted her hand with such finesse that the ghost of a smile was all he could muster. Desire was written all over his face, and he did not a damn thing to conceal that fact.

Any shyness he’d harbored was gone, done away with by the little nod that confirmed her desire. He saw anticipation tighten her abdominal muscles and released a gasp at the dampness that gave the nest of her pubic hair in a silver gleam. Then, on a quest for the most desperate moans and full-body trembles, Phryne made him forget about everything except her hands.

The cradle of her palms took turns with her fingertips; she traced veins on the map of his cock and rubbed beads of pre-cum into his tip with fierce adoration. Watching her own fingers draw filthy sounds from him, Phryne slid her hands, one after the other, from tip to base, where she pulled off fast for near-constant stimulation.

Sunlight drying the sweat on his back, he snapped with a shout soon buried near her slightly sticky neck. She willed herself into perfect stillness to be painted by his desire’s proof, the white robes that loving him had brought about. He made sure to hover above her rather than fall, at an angle that allowed him to nibble at her jaw before a disgruntled noise made him retreat from her line of sight.

With Jack at the mercy of one steadying arm, a vulnerable sliver of space remained for his cock to twitch and sputter, to squirt hot liquid up the softness of her belly and sprinkle drops along the bottoms of her breasts. The glint in her eyes as she stared between them solved the mystery of the noise she’d made, and it was as if all blood in his body had ascended to his cheeks.

As he ran his fingers through the sticky fluid on her belly, Phryne’s heart skipped a beat; she curved to chase his fleeting touch. “There’s a fresh towel by my dressing screen,” she murmured after swallowing hard.

Jack made for the tub, wetting a corner of the towel she’d mentioned. His quiet observer, reclining on the bed in slack-muscled glee, watched for the play of tanned skin and prominent muscle made more apparent by his bending down to reach the tap. Droplets of light danced across his face, which he’d tilted serenely to soak in the sun. In a second’s thought or less, she identified her dress as the source of the fractured light; it lay in a sorry pile atop her windowsill.

Back at her side, he sported a smile to contest her own. She could have counted on one hand the times she’d seen it – soft and wide and utterly besotted – and couldn’t wait to be the aim of it again.

The feel of Jack’s gentle hands, Phryne wanted to savor, allowing her eyes to fall closed. She felt him run the towel over her belly and the insides of her thighs, bringing her alabaster skin to light where his velvet release had covered it. Her limbs were heavy enough that she did nothing at all to help his pursuit… Except draw it out with tiny noises.

“There,” he whispered, having taken so long that she was slightly red and growing achy, “all nice and clean.”

“Mmmh.”

Much faster, he saw to himself. In as much time as it took her to roll onto her side, he’d sat back down and twisted at the waist to watch her closely. “So,” he said, and Phryne noted with joy the return of his smile, “where did you say the spider had touched you?”

There was a brief pause as she made a study of his naked outer thigh. “My arm. Covered by the sleeve of my robe.” The rise of her voice did not go unheard. And if that was loud, Jack’s blank stare crossed into blaring.

Phryne shrugged, a soft, one-shouldered move. “Better be safe than sorry.” Intently searching his softening expression, she found that something had settled into place. He appeared younger yet at the same time more resolved, and as much as if he’d always been there as freshly drawn upon the canvas of her life.

“If you’re really worried,” began Jack, letting his fingers connect her freckles, writing tiny constellations across her soft upper arm, “I’d be happy to return for a more thorough search. Tonight?”

As she shuffled to face him, Phryne felt fireworks burst inside her heart. They were home, right where they wanted to be, and it seemed that Jack agreed that how they’d come there didn’t matter.

“How very rational of you,” she responded and schooled her gaping mouth into a grin.

**Author's Note:**

> Ask me how many times I wrote this fic and I'll probably explode from frustration. (It's somewhere between three and four.) If it hadn't been for the deadline, I probably would've done another thousand rewrites, and I sincerely hope this doesn't suck. Thank you for reading! <3


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